


Soulfully in Color

by AKBruce



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Jackson Whittemore, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kind of weird prompt, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Slow Burn, Stydia slow burn, stydia endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-02-17 00:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13065540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKBruce/pseuds/AKBruce
Summary: Lydia Martin is 21 years old and will stay that way until she finds her soulmate. Stuck in a world where everything you see is black and white until you see your soulmate and your world is illuminated in color, Lydia feels lost. If a person hits 21 and hasn't found their soulmate, they stay that age until the color is seen. But, once the color is seen, the person has a limited time to find their soulmate before their world retreats back to black and white forever. Lydia is living in a pretty toxic relationship, both of them still seeing black and white, but neither of them willing to go try to find their soulmate.Across the world, Stiles Stilinski is in a relationship with a girl who he knows isn't his soulmate. She knows he isn't hers either, but she says that doesn't matter. But, all Stile's life, all he's ever wanted to do was see a flash of color. Will they find their soulmates, or will their lives be laminated in darkness forever?





	1. The Void

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, I've seen prompts like this before and decided to try it out.  
> As always, I don't own Teen Wolf (unfortunately). Only the plot is done by me.  
> I love writing and reading AU's with a soulmate twist so I hope this is enjoyable.

1: The Void

Jackson had stood her up, again. Honestly, Lydia wasn’t extremely surprised by this event considering how absolutely miserable of a person Jackson was, but now she had to make up some lame excuse on why she couldn’t stay at the diner and either go hunt him down or go home.

She decided the latter, politely leaving a five for her coffee, and headed out of the diner and into the mediocre temperature of San Pedro. Luckily, the ground wasn’t as hot since the sun had set, but the ground was still quite warm as her bare feet slunk across it.

Yes, most tourist looked at the locals like they were crazy for not wearing any shoes or sunscreen ever, but Lydia had gotten so used to it that she almost liked it. She headed down the street towards her home, the sun setting over the waves of the water, and the sound of people in bars on either side of the street radiating around her. Lydia took a second to look out at the ocean, and sighed deeply at the beautiful sunset.

Or- at least- that’s what she was told. She had been told her entire life the sunset was beautiful but was yet to find out if it was beautiful or not.

Lydia had always felt as if she was cursed. All her friends were in their later 20s now, watching colored sunsets with the loves of their lives, while Lydia was being stood up nightly, and still at the ripe age of 21 years.

At first, she was glad about it. She had thought maybe she would find herself or some crazy shit like that. But, when she met Jackson and learned he had been 21 for almost ten years and was miserable, she decided that all she wanted was to just turn 22.

Logically, if all she wanted was to turn 22, she should be searching the entire globe- traveling city to city, hoping to find her color somewhere. But yet, here she was, her same old town, the same old black and white everything for four years now.

Well, not all black and white. There were assortments of greys in between, and sometimes if she got lucky the white would turn cream and the black would turn almost a navy. But so far, no soulmate, and no color.

Lydia was almost home by now, walking briskly but still enjoying the heat and sounds of the nightlife of her home.

Maybe that had been the real reason Lydia was okay with being 21 forever. Lydia had lived in San Pedro, Belize, since she was a young child. The tiny Island had become her kingdom, and she knew every inch of it. It was the only part of her soul she could trust to make up for the hole in her chest caused by the void of black and white.

Lydia had reached her home by now, pushing open the unlocked door and finding the house, to no one’s surprise, empty. She sighed to herself, wondering, really, what she expected, and headed to the kitchen to drink her void away.

_*  *  *  *_

Malia was on her fourth beer, which was not a good sign, considering she was supposed to be the designated driver. But, in the bright warm city of Madrid, he didn’t have to worry about it, considering they could just walk home.

Stiles ordered another drink for himself, sitting back in his seat as Malia went to join the partying of all the other 21-year-olds.

Because, of course, that’s why this place always seemed to be where Stiles and Malia found themselves: The “21 Bar”, also known as the colorless bar. Gosh knows how long some of these people had been 21. Stiles’ knows Malia’s on her third year, and he himself is on his sixth year, almost seventh.

To Stiles, no color really had never been a problem. After he graduated high school in Beacon Hills, California, and his two best friends, who had met Sophomore year and immediately found their colors in each other, had moved away, Stiles found himself at George Washington University in D.C, but it really wasn’t for him. So, when he hit 21 and realized his color wasn’t coming any time soon, he took up a study abroad offer that had been given to him by a University in Madrid, Spain.

Stiles didn’t really try at school. Yes, it was where he had met Malia, but besides that, school was useless. Anyone in this society who was still stuck at 21 was useless.

And that was how Stiles found himself in the _21 Bar_ with Malia, weekly. Malia was one case of wonderful. Stiles and Malia both knew they weren’t soulmates since they were both stuck in the void, but neither of them cared, and so they stuck together.

Stiles pulled himself out of his head and looked over at Malia who was still dancing, but was becoming more slumpy and slouchy, which meant it was time for them to go.

Stiles got up, grabbing Malia’s hand, and pulled her towards the exit of the bar, wrapping his arm around her to steady her.

“Guess we’re walking home.” He joked, and she smiled in a drunk sleepy way, offering him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. He smiled back at her and they headed down the bustling street, still alive even thought it was half past One.

“Had so much fun, with you, tonight…” Malia slurred, and Stiles patted her shoulder, pulling more of her weight onto himself.

“You too, Malia.” He said, and she nodded, before heading back into her head. Lucky for Stiles’ weak bone structure, their flat was just a few blocks down, so they had arrived in no time.

Stiles opened the door, before practically hauling Malia inside, and then placing her under the covers of the bed. She muttered some incomprehensible words before she was completely passed out. Stiles smiled at her sleeping form before changing and getting into bed next to her himself.

This was his life, and this was the way he liked it. It really didn’t matter what anyone else or the void told him, he was happy with the life he lived, and color would not affect that, therefore no color was necessary.

For Stiles, the void was just fine.

So, Stiles took one last glance at Malia before turning onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, looking at nothing.


	2. Dropped in the Fire

2: Dropped in the Fire

A sound came from the door, causing Lydia to come out of her half-asleep state on the couch, raising her head towards the door, just in time to see Jackson attempting to sneak through.

“Busy night?” Lydia asked, managing to pull herself up from where she was laying on the couch, standing to look at Jackson. Surveying him, Lydia noticed how dis-helved and obviously drunk he was by his slouching and puffy eyes.

“Yeah, you have a problem with that, _Novia_?” He asked, emphasizing the way he said girlfriend like it was a false title with a secret meaning. Lydia sighed, turning towards the kitchen, putting her half finished rum back into the fridge and walking towards Jackson, pulling his jacket off for him and hanging it up on the fridge.

“No problem at all, _Novio_.” She said, dragging the word boyfriend just as he did, and he took a tug at her hair, causing her to swat his hand away. “You can sleep on the couch tonight.” She said, pivoting on her foot to go into the bedroom, stopping when his hand grabbed her wrist.

“I’ll sleep where I want.” He said, and Lydia pulled away from him, the rum beginning to course through her system. “How about you sleep on the couch?” He said, taking Lydia’s hand again and pulling her over to the couch, sitting her down and laying the blanket over her. “I don’t really think the two of us completely wasted should be in the same room, and I get the bed.” Lydia shook, about to pummel him, when he shoved her down onto the couch.

“Oh, stop it Jackson. I’ve had far too much to drink, don’t provoke me.” Lydia said, feeling confident that the rum coursing through her was taking over. Jackson laid on the couch atop of her, looming over her, his glare sending blades at her false threat, before sitting up and taking a spot at the end of the couch, his glare still violent.

“It won’t matter.” He said, and Lydia looked at him, confused. “We’ll be giving the couch up to some random University kids in a week or so.” He finished, and Lydia knit her brows, quirking her head to the side in question.

“I thought all of your students stayed in dorms?” Lydia asked, and Jackson laughed at her, causing her to shrink back into the couch a bit more.

“No, they’re students who are visiting from some place in Spain. The dorms are half full, so some of the students are staying in Professors houses. Since you work everyday and can’t really do much else, I figured you could be a sweet little hostess to a few of them.” Jackson said, instigating Lydia to scowl at the way he described her.

“If I can still make my full shift, I don’t really care.” Lydia said, shrugging, and meaning it to. Her life had come to the point where she knew arguing with Jackson would just get her a bruise.

“Good. You’ll have to get some food, and dress a bed, and anything else I ask, but none of that is new to you anyways.” He said, and Lydia rolled her eyes but nodded, sitting up towards where he was sitting to place a kiss on his lips, just for good measure. He swung her up into his chest, standing, and smirked. “Eh, maybe we’ll just share the bed.” He said, carrying her off into their room and slamming the door closed behind them. 

_*  *  *  *_

Stiles sighed, pulling on his top, listening to Malia sing to herself in the shower, smiling at her complete joy.

Malia had always seemed like the best thing that had ever happened to him since he had taken up the study in Madrid. He had been so lonely, missing his best friend Scott and his soulmate Allison, very deeply. Malia had charged into his life, ramming his loneliness over and pulling him out of his 21 slumps. He still wished with all his might that she was his color.

The shower stopped, and Malia came out a second later, still humming to herself, a towel wrapped about her head.

“So, I require a favor of you today.” Malia started, and Stiles crooked his mouth to one side in a smile. He loved the way she talked, her English mediocre and her accent rich. 

“Yes, go on.” He said, whilst she pulled on a top, tugging the towel off her hair.

“I need you to actually come to class.” Malia said, wrinkling her eyes in the way she always did when she was hoping for a good answer. “And that isn’t really a request, it’s more of a requirement.” She supplemented on. Stiles sighed.

“Okay, but only this once. Why do I need to go anyways?” He asked, irritated. Malia knew how much he despised attending classes, it was all boring information that just made him want to either bang his head on his desk or to lay his head down and sleep on the desk.

“You’ll see.” Malia said, pulling on the same booties she wore everyday and motioning for him to follow her outside. “Stiles, hurry, I refuse to have you be the cause of my tardiness.” Stiles stood, taking Malia’s hand, and walking out of their flat, locking the door behind him. He trudged next to Malia down the busy street, taking in the crazy bustle that always amazed him.

The sun glared down on him, and he began to sweat, causing him to ache for his jeep. Stiles’ jeep had been his one success, and when he moved to Madrid, he had been forced to leave it in Beacon Hills. He had left it with Scott, but it was still really rough to leave it behind and he missed it constantly, as ridiculous as it seemed.

They were almost to the University building by now, Malia’s pace incredibly fast.

“So, the class today may make you a bit confused, but, I promise, you’ll end up thanking me.” Malia threw out, making Stiles curious. Malia was usually extremely straightforward, so this was new.

“Oh?” Stiles said as they approached the entrance, the cool air conditioning hitting him. Malia nodded, and Stiles opened the door, following Malia inside.

Once they reached the classroom, Stiles took a seat next to Malia in the further back portion of the room, watching students rush into the class and take their seats.

A few minutes later, the bell chimed, and the professor walked in, greeting everyone in the class before he began speaking.

“Hola clase! Ahora, yo tengo noticias importantes.” He started, and Stiles sighed, taking a second to translate. _I have important news_. “En diez dias, la clase va a San Pedro, en Belize! Nosotros vamos a estudiar a la Universidad alli. Todo el mundo está obligatorio a venir, así que empaca tus maletas!” The professor exclaimed, and, after a second, Stiles gasped, not liking this Malia surprise at all. _In ten days, the class goes to San Pedro, in Belize! We are going to study at the University there. Everybody’s required to come, so pack your bags!_  Stiles turned to Malia, who grinned.

“Yes, I’m going. Yes, you are too.” Malia said, and Stiles sighed, looking her in the eye.

“I am not. I told you, I like it here, I don’t need anymore adventure in my life.” Stiles said, angry at Malia for undermining him, but also a little curious of what might happen if he did go.

“Nope.” Was all she said, turning to watch the Professor start his lesson. “I’m taking you to San Pedro, Stiles Stilinski.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been so fun to write, really having a blast developing the story! I hope everyone enjoys! Also, I apologize in advance, my Spanish is definitely mediocre at best. Thanks for the kudos and everything else, they really help push me to write. Enjoy!


	3. Holiday With the Taste of a New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had/is having a good holiday! This chapter is generally longer than I normally write for fics, but I feel like I want them to be longer for this certain fic. Also, I don't know if people prefer to have chapter summaries, which I could do. Let me know on both those thoughts!  
> Another thing, I may have gotten a wee bit excited and posted it earlier than a week but don't expect that to become a constant hehe.  
> Alright I'll stop babbling so just enjoy, your kudos and thoughts are very appreciated!

**3: Holiday with the Taste of a New Beginning**

  
Stiles jolted awake to Malia shaking his shoulder repeatedly, drawing a glare out of him in her direction.

“Oh, don’t give me that pouty face. We’re here!” Malia exclaimed, pointing to her left at the city coming into view from the tiny airplane window. Stiles blinked a few more times before looking out into the black sun and grey water. Malia turned her head with the rare sparkle of excitement seen in them, and Stiles’ couldn’t help but grin at her. 

The plane jolted to a stop, and they were ushered across the airport to a smaller plane, which then took the couple and other students over to the island of San Pedro. 

When the tiny plane landed, Malia practically dragged Stiles’ off, shoving past all of the other students. They then collected their bags from the pilot who had pulled them off the plane, and all gathered around their beckoning Professor. 

“Bienvenido a San Pedro, Belize!” The professor declared. Welcome to san Pedro, Belize! Stiles sighed, already realizing how much brain power this would cause him translation wise. “En Belize, ellos hablan en Ingles, Espanol y Mayan. Te voy a mostrar a la Universidad.” Stiles sighed, and turned to an expecting Malia who made a point to roll her eyes. 

“Lucky for you, they speak English here too. Professor is taking us to the University now.” Malia half translated for him, and he nodded, taking her hand as they followed the group down the busy streets. 

Stiles was blown away by the tiny island within the first five minutes of walking down the streets. For starters, there were no cars, only golf carts and a few mini-vans labeled “taxi”. The water was bright white, and most of the people, including the kids, walked around the streets barefooted. Many of the buildings were old and mud-hut looking, and Stiles wanted to stop and take a mental picture of it all. 

The streets were bustling with people, talking in multiple languages, selling random items, with quite a few tourists purchasing said random items. As the group walked along the waterfront, Stiles spotted many boats out on the water and some kids playing in the water, laughing and splashing. 

“Oh, look!” Malia said, pointing to a club, which was followed by another and another and so on. Stiles laughed, knowing exactly where Malia was going to drag them that night. “Holy- Stiles, look!” She pointed at another spot, a three-story hut on the dock, with a few hanging hammocks off the side and people drinking beers from a bucket lowered from the top level of the hut in innertubes in the water. “We are so there!” Malia shouted, and Stiles chuckled, practically dragging her so they could stay with the group. 

The water-walk ended, and the group turned down a street heading towards a large building that Stiles could only assume was the University. 

“Nosotros estamos aqui!” The professor said, and the group bustled, following him into the building. Malia kept her grip on Stiles’ hand, tugging him into the main hall. The professor then sorted them all into groups, Stiles and Malia following some random professor from the university into another room. 

Stiles and Malia settled into another room, sitting themselves down on the ground with the few other students from their group. 

“Hola.” The man said, and Stiles noticed how he looked to be 21 just like most of the students. “Or, hello. Here, we will be speaking English, but if Spanish becomes necessary, I will happily speak it.” He said, and Stiles sighs in relief. “My name is Jackson Whittemore, and I run the exchange program here. All of you are under my teaching from now until you leave.” Jackson continued, and Stiles noticed how, although the man was 21, he looked like the older type and must be to have a Professoral degree, maybe at least six years. “Most of you will be staying in this very dorm, but there are a few others who will be staying in houses of teachers due to lack of room, we are a small island. You will find all that info in the packets on the tables, and for tonight, you are all dismissed. Go explore San Pedro.” He finished, and Stiles looked to a beaming Malia, who was already dragging him out the door. 

* * * * 

The restaurant was full of lots of 21 looking students, maybe some even younger. Not that Lydia wasn’t surprised by that, considering the venue of where she worked attracted mostly younger people to it, but tonight felt even busier than usual.

It wasn’t as if Lydia didn’t like her job, she did, there was just up days and down days. For some reason at 5pm, it was already a down day for her and honestly, she blamed that on Jackson. After he told her that those students were staying at their place, she awoke, with him gone, no surprise, and ended up tidying the house. But, of course, her tidying caused her to almost be late to work. So, yeah, today was a down day. 

Lydia exhaled, surveying the dining area and the four hanging hammocks and kitchen before going down to the first level, looking over the tubes, beer canisters and first level dining. 

“Alright, we’re in the okay.” Lydia said as she approached the downstairs floor manager, whom she had just recently hired and was called Liam and was ripe in his first year of 21. “I’ll open up the top bar. We’re in for a busy night.” She finished, and Liam nodded, so Lydia headed up to the third level, her level, flipping the “Bar is closed” sign to “Bar is open”. 

Overturning all the beer taps and locked drink shelves, Lydia turned on the lighted menu sign before sitting on her stool and waiting for the madness.  
She could admit to enjoying the view. From the three stories hut the whole ocean could be seen, looking like it would go on forever if not for the tiny island that could be seen to the left. Boats of all kinds scattered the water, and it was very serene for Lydia to watch.

Of course, it would have been much more serene in color, but Lydia shoved that thought out of her head.

The bucket holding the beer dropped down to the people in the tubes flipped up to the top, and Lydia groaned, grabbing a few new beers, placing the in the bucket, and dropping said bucket over the side where Liam would pull it back down to the people floating in the tubes. 

The rest of the night went on pretty busy-like, but it was nothing Lydia couldn’t handle. As she suspected, it was mostly students who were visiting from some place in Spain, and she chatted with them before watching them all get pretty plastered. 

When her shift finally ended around midnight, she let the other employee on her level know, and left as quickly as she could, practically running down the steps of the levels and hurrying back to her tiny house, ready to get some sleep and food in herself. 

When she opened the door, a bag was sitting on the couch, but there was no person for it, so Lydia assumed it was the students stuff. 

“Good, you’re home.” Lydia heard from the bedroom, spinning on her foot to see Jackson leaning against the doorframe. “We need to talk about something.” He said, and Lydia resisted rolling her eyes. 

“Fine, but I need sleep soon.” She said, allowing him to speak while walking to the kitchen to get some food for herself. 

“It’s about us.” He started, and Lydia opened the fridge, grabbing random leftovers and turning to look at him. 

“What about us?” She asked, placing the leftovers in the microwave and pulling out a spoon, making sure it was clean and not a mess since neither her or Jackson ever felt like hand-cleaning dishes. 

“We don’t work. You’re not cutting it. I need something better, and I’m not going to find it here.” Jackson stated firmly, and Lydia swiveled towards him in shock to see that he was now only a few feet away, looming over her. “Look, I want a soulmate. You’re not it, and you’re never going to find one. So, I’m out.” He finished, Lydia considering what he was stating. “We both knew that we weren’t a forever. I just let it go too far.” 

Yeah, Jackson was rude and abusive, but they were stable. They split their living, they kept each other going. But, Lydia thought, on the other hand, if Jackson was out of the picture, she would have a bigger chance of finding her color, which, as Jackson was right in stating, she did want to find. Apart from the emotional level of the situation, Lydia realized she would have to find herself a new place to live.

“I know where your head is going. I’m moving out. Of course, the students still need to stay here, but I trust you as a friend to complete that task. I’ll be moving in with one of the other Professors.” He said, nodding to her and walking over to the sofa, grabbing the bag Lydia had assumed was a student’s and walking out the door. Gone, just like that. 

The microwave beeped, Lydia pivoting on her shaking foot to open it, shock covering every inch of her over what had just happened and what would come next. She hated when Jackson did stuff like this, when he decided he could be unpredictable and decisive. 

Lydia exhaled, puffing her cheeks out and pulling her food out of the microwave. She knew how this would go. Within a week, he’d probably be back. 

The question was, did Lydia really want him to come charging back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S.!:  
> Yes, Lydia's work is modeled after an actual place. I absolutely love that little hut, it's a great dig. If anyone's interested in the name or location just ask, I'd love to share.  
> I also apologize if I butchered any Spanish, I'm not quite fluent yet.


	4. Color and All In-Betweens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this chapter is really long for me. I just kept writing and writing! Hope everyone enjoys, I'm quite proud of this chapter.

4: Color and All In-Betweens

  
Stiles was about done with his first drink, his feet dangling over the side of the first level of the hut bar place Malia had insisted upon them going to, when Malia swam over to him and pulled herself up, grabbing her third beer from the tin bucket. 

It was their second night in San Pedro. Stiles was staying at the University, while Malia was staying at one of the Teacher’s friend’s houses. They had spent the day in the University, Jackson explaining the this and that’s of the island, before, finally, they had been released, and now he found himself at this little hut with Malia. 

“Malia, we’re in the Caribbean and you’re gonna have another beer?” Stiles chastised, waving the tiny umbrella from his Limeade in Malia’s face for emphasis. 

“I guess I’m a routine kind of person?” Malia offered in a question form, curving herself towards his face so she could plant a kiss to his lips, her arms reaching around his shoulders and deepening the kiss. Stiles responded with a content “mmmm”, kissing her back lazily. 

“You taste like tropical beer.” Stiles murmured against her lips, smiling. Malia pulled away, letting out a very Malia-like snort and then popping the cap off the beer bottle. 

“I’m going back out.” She stated, and Stiles braced himself for the next question. “Care to join?” Stiles exhaled and shook his head. 

“I’ll watch you and enjoy my mini-umbrella.” Stiles remarked, a semi-dishonorable smirk flickering across Malia’s face in reply, earning a similar looking one from Stile’s in return.   
Stiles stood, curious to what the other two levels of the hut looked like. He approached the stairs, bounding up the spiral before emerging on the second level. More dining, and some large hammocks, all occupied at the moment. Stiles made a mental note to bring Malia into one with him later. 

He made his way up the spirals to the top level, finding himself staring out at the ocean in one direction and the island in another. There was a bar and beach chairs scattered around plus high tables with a few people around them. 

Stiles sat at one of the empty beach-like chairs, looking out at the greys and blacks of the ocean, feeling a little peace. He wondered what it was like for those who were here with soulmates, staring out at the colors of the ocean, colors all around. 

And that was when it happened. 

He felt as if he was struck by lightning, jolting him to his core. His eyes were forced shut, his body slumped in the chair for he was unable to hold himself upright, and his eye muscles refused to open for seconds. He exhaled, drawing in a deep breath and shoving, bursting his eyes open. 

The ocean was a clear blue. The sailboats sails were white. The chair he was slumped in was orange. His hands were a pale tan. The setting sun was a deep yellow, with reds and purples and oranges and all in-betweens cascading around it in a beautiful arc of art. 

It was the most amazing moment of his life. 

He blinked, his body frozen, his mind unbelieving. 

When he re-opened his eyes, it was still color. Finally regaining control of his limbs, he stood, swerving to scan the hut. All was the same, except someone was bent over behind the bar. 

He blinked a few more times, savoring the colors that were knocking him over. Quickly, he made his way over to the bar, sitting himself in a stool in front of it, glancing at the black haired Asian girl on the other side.

The girl smiled and looked back down to her drink with sad eyes. No color. Stiles propelled his way to the back of his brain, remembering his fifth grade teacher saying that when you found your color it meant that your soulmate was in at least a 15 mile radius of you, but it may not have been the soulmate who triggered it. 

Stiles then thought of his best friend Scott, who had found his soulmate and also one of Stiles’ closest friends, Allison. Allison’s color hadn’t appeared until 3 weeks after him an Allison met, where Scott’s had appeared immediately. In the end, Allison had found something in herself that had allow the color to appear. Of course, they without any delays knew it was each other and had sealed it with the kiss and bonds and barf but that wasn’t what Stiles was focused on. 

He fluttered his eyes, emerging from his thoughts only to realize the bartender was asking him if she could help him. 

Stiles’ first thought was, in fact ‘wow’. The girl had strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes. Her lips were red tinted, and full. She was tan, but her skin had the same tone as Stiles’. And, she was definitely 21, new at that. 

“Can I help you?” She asked, though she seemed kind of shaken up, like she had been awake for the past 48 hours and had fallen over too many times, but Stiles still saw a hidden beauty buried under it all. He almost didn’t reply. 

“Oh no, sorry, I just wanted a new drink. I had a- well I don’t remember the name… but I want another.” Stiles said, cringing inwardly at how he stumbled over his words. 

“Oh.” The girl said, looking even more shaken up now, knitting her brows together in a kind of adorable way. “Well, that looks like a Lime-aid.” She stated, and Stiles nodded in agreement. “Another Lime-aid then?” She questioned, a slight wind blowing a few pieces of her wavy hair into her face.

“Er…no.” Stiles started, the girl looking at boiling point. “Something else. You pick. Something with rum.” Stiles decided, and the bartender let out a slight chuckle, dipping her head. 

“Alright then. Sounds good, I’ll whip something up.” She said, muttering something Stiles’ couldn’t make out to herself as she bent over to grab materials. 

“Well, there you are!” Stiles heard Malia’s annoyed voice chirp from behind him. He swiveled on the chair, his eyes consuming her appearance with his newfound color-sight. Her hair was a deep brown, her skin a bit tanner than he anticipated, her whole body that much more gorgeous, her swimsuit a bright yellow. 

“Yeah, sorry, I wanted to get a drink.” Stiles said, half-there, it suddenly dawning on him that he’d have to explain this color to her. He didn’t want to dump her, he still wanted her.

“Lydia?” Malia suddenly exclaimed, ignoring Stiles and sitting next to him, looking to the bartender. “I didn’t know your shift was right now!” Malia said excitedly, causing the bartender to offer Malia a warm smile, Stiles turning to Malia in confusion. “Lydia’s my host-house owner!” Malia explained, and Stiles froze. 

_* * * *_

Lydia was tired. She had spent all the day before at work, got dumped by Jackson, had Malia come in not even an hour later, poured her heart out to Malia, went to bed feeling hollower than ever, and woke up with the world suspended in color. 

But, nonetheless, she was still here, jolly good mood, keeping her work place in good condition, making drinks. The color almost felt as if it was taking something out of her, her eyes having to identify every color. 

Now, she wasn’t complaining. She loved the color. It was beautiful and exciting and it was everywhere, more shades than she could have ever imagined. But with the color came the stress of finding the Soulmate and them actually wanting her. 

So, now she sat in front of Malia, her weird male friend, and Kira Yukimora across the way, who was in almost every night, drinking her life away. 

“Host? I thought those were teachers only?” The boy asked Malia, his cute face scrunched up in confusion, Lydia a bit irritated that she would have to tell this story again. 

“No, you idiot, she’s a friend of our Professors’.” Malia said, winking at Lydia over the boy’s head. “Well, I think it’s time for us to get you back.” Malia said, tapping the boy’s cheek. 

“No, Malia, I don’t want you being out crazy late.” He said, and Lydia watched them, in awe of how easy they were with each other and how light-hearted their arguments were. 

“Stiles, come on.” Malia said, lifting the boy-Stiles- off the stool, and looking to Lydia. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go home without me!” She said, walking off with Stiles arm wrapped around her shoulder. 

Stiles. What an interesting name. Interesting name to match an interesting person. Even though he was a bit drunk, Lydia still thought he was odd. But, he was also very cute, and Lydia hoped Malia was happy with him. God, she hoped there were other happy non-soulmate couples, she was starting to believe those didn’t exist. 

She sighed, sliding over to the other side of her bar so she was right in front of Kira, who was waiting patiently. 

“I just want a damn Coke.” Kira said, and Lydia laughed, pulling a Coke out from the mini-fridge and popping the metal open. “Not mixed with anything. Yet.” Kira added, and Lydia nodded. 

“So, rough day at work today?” Lydia asked, sliding the Coke over and pulling up her own stool to perch on, always enjoying these night chats she had with Kira, who was probably one of her best 21-year-old friends. Lydia and Kira had grown up in school together, Lydia a year above Kira in schooling. They were two of the only San Pedro raised 21 year olds of their class who actually stayed in Belize. 

“God, there were so many children.” Kira said, and Lydia grinned, definitely not missing working for kids. Kira was an employee of a private carrier that went out on the ocean and showed families the great reef, allowed them to swim with sharks and all that other touristy stuff. “A tween cut her leg on one of the coral and we had to swim her back. It was so-ugh.” Kira complained. 

“Maybe we need a bit more than Coke, huh?” Lydia joked, reaching over and patting the girls shoulder. 

“So, how is it without Jackson and with the student?” Kira asked, jerking her chin to the stairs Malia and Stiles had climbed down. 

“I don’t miss him yet.” Lydia said, meaning it. “Malia is great. She’s straight-forward and funny, very dry humor. But, she’s also a good girl.” Lydia added at the end, just for good measure. 

“I’m glad.” Kira said, pushing her now empty Coke glass to Lydia. “Put rum in it this time.” Kira requested, and Lydia half-saluted, bending over to start working on the drink. 

“Lydia still here?” Came Malia’s voice, a thump heard from her sitting on the stool next to Kira’s. Lydia stood up, placing the Coke down and starting to mix Kira’s drink. “There you are. How goes the pity party? Can I join?” Malia joked, drawing a snort from Kira. 

“Please, it’s welcome to all.” Lydia said right back, handing Kira her drink. “You want anything?” Lydia asked Malia, who looked up at the menu, amateur. 

“Oh no,” Kira gasped, Malia turning to her, Lydia stifling a giggle. “You really are a tourist. Menu items don’t exist with Lydia Martin. She’s a genius, she can whip up literally anything you ask for.” Kira explained to Malia, who, looking confused, nodded. 

“Bien! Then, I want something tropical with Vodka.” Malia ordered, Lydia smiling, knowing exactly what she would make. 

Lydia found herself smiling through the rest of the night, going home with a very drunk Malia and Kira, who both crashed in her house, Kira on the bed with Lydia herself, all three fast asleep within minutes of arriving. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Kira and Lydia are San Pedro natives and Malia's first language is Spanish, fight me. I do this in all my fics because I like to represent different cultures in my characters. :)


	5. Pretense or Color

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, but I'm here with a decently long (for me) chapter.   
> I'm the opposite of Malia, so if she's written a bit OOC I apologize, I tried my hardest, hehe.   
> With that, enjoy! Your feedback is always welcomed.!

5: Pretense or Color

  
The morning light came shining into Lydia’s room, her eyes opening, not used to the bright morning colors staining the outsides of her eyelids. She indistinctively reached to her side, searching for Jackson, only to feel a skinny arm, causing her eyes to flicker open in surprise, seeing Kira’s small drooling face directly in front of her. 

Lydia’s brain flashed back to all that had happened the night before and remembered how Malia and Kira had both crashed once they reached Lydia’s house pretty hard, meaning she should probably cook whatever hangover cure crap she had lying around her house. 

Slowly and as quietly as possible, she reached one leg out, cringing at the loud squeak her very old mattress made as she shifted out of it. She placed her other foot on the ground, getting up and walking towards the doorway, pushing quietly through the curtains hanging in the doorway her and Jackson had bought because they didn’t need or could afford doors. 

Her mind flashed to Jackson as she quietly headed into the kitchen, careful not to wake an also still completely passed out Malia on the couch. Where was he at the moment, who was he living with?

She felt silly wondering considering he left her, made it *clear their half-relationship was over and she had just gained her color, but she had been with him for a while. 

She opened the fridge, pulling out her milk cartoon and eggs, mixing up her best hangover remedy while quietly humming a tune that had been played repeatedly at work last night and not really noticing as her mind drifted towards how her color showed up.

She learned the basics in the little amount of schooling she was required to go through, since she graduated early due to her high level smarts. The person had to be on the island of San Pedro, Belize. When her and Kira had went to get tested, she had resulted for only male, unlike Kira who had resulted for any gender. She also knew that it was probably someone relatively new to the island, because when on the younger side of 21, color pops up right when you get near to the person, and Lydia was more on the younger side. 

Malia stirred, emitting a loud and quite obnoxious noise that was in the middle of a groan and a yawn. Lydia turned from the hangover remedy she was making to look at Malia, who was sitting up on the couch, holding her head. 

“Buenos dias.” Malia said to Lydia groggily, and Lydia let out a slight giggle, turning off the stove and approaching Malia, rubbing her shoulders.

“Bit of a hangover?” Lydia asked, patting Malia’s shoulder, watching Malia cringe at the noises. Malia nodded, and Lydia walked back to the tiny countertop, grabbing the hangover cure Lydia always made for herself and handing it to Malia. “This always helps me.” She said, and Malia nodded, not saying another word and just diving in. 

_It was odd._ That was what Lydia could think about the color, over and over again. It was weird blinking only to see all these random shades everywhere, and to see what Lydia had correctly guessed was colored and what wasn’t. 

But, at the same time, Lydia was nervous. This was the pattern they could never predict in school. How was the color goes away without the sealing _‘colorful deal’,_ as most people would call it.

Sealing the colorful deal was really just a way of saying kissing your soulmate, binding the two of you and allowing your body to see color forever. If the colorful deal was not sealed, the color could go away, but no one knew when. Could be days, could be months. 

Kira emerged through the fabric on the doors, dragging her feet as well. Lydia walked over to her, slinging an arm around her own body and escorting Kira over to the couch and plopping her down next to Malia. She then handed Kira her plate, not even having to explain what it was considering the amount of times Kira stayed over because of the hangover. 

Lydia let the girls know she was going to get ready, before heading back into her bedroom, still stressing over what the heck she would do about this whole color deal. 

_* * * *_

Stiles approached the house that Jackson had given the address to, claiming this was where Malia was staying. 

He had already accidentally knocked on the door of two other houses, and was really hoping this was the right one, considering one of the people only spoke Mayan and that was a very awkward conversation. 

He slammed his fist on the door-frame, since there was no door, only a thick black curtain. 

“Come in!” Came a more high-pitched light voice, and entered the house to see a small Asian-looking black haired girl eating some odd disgusting looking meal. “Um, do we know you?” The same girl asked, cocking her head to the side, and Stiles’ was sure he’d seen her before. 

“Um, yeah, I’m looking for-” Stiles started, as Malia came out from another set of curtains across the room. 

“There you are Stiles. Wasn’t sure you’d make it here. Bienvidos Senora Lydia’s casa! Thar cute short girl is Kira.” Malia said pointing to the black haired girl-Kira as she approached Stiles and placed a lazy kiss on his lips, Stiles’ pulling back in surprise from an odd flavor. 

“What is that shit that you taste like?” Stiles’ asked, unable to help himself, earning a giggle from Kira and a snort from Malia. 

“It’s a hangover remedy.” The bartender from the hut last night said, Stiles’ not even hearing her silent approach. “Pretty sure you don’t want to know the contents.” She said, receiving a chuckle from Stiles in return. “I’m Lydia, by the way.” She said, before turning to what looked to be a very old stove, rubbing a towel over it. 

“Stiles’. Malia’s American boyfriend.” Stiles’ said, earning another snort from Malia, Kira shaking her head. 

“Yeah, pretty sure we all can depict Americans.” Kira said, her smile very bright and genuine. “No offense, of course. Your accents are just very obvious.” She added, and Stiles’ guessed she wasn’t really the rude type. 

“Hmm.” Lydia turned from the stove, approaching the three chatting. “Don’t the two of you have classes?” Lydia asked, and Malia cringed. 

“We have one, in around an hour.” Malia answered before Stiles. “It’s with Professor Jackson, but then we’re free for the rest of the weekend.” A shadow passed over Lydia’s face for a split second, and Stiles couldn’t help but wonder what caused that. 

“Well, why don’t you guys go out before class? The house is a mess and I have to leave for work in fifteen minutes.” Lydia said, and Stiles considered, not knowing where they would go. “Kira can show you around if you’d like, both myself and her have lived here since birth.” Lydia added, and Kira nodded, standing. 

“I know all places. And cheap as well. Let’s go.” Kira said, giving Lydia a loose hug, Stiles noticing the way the two held each other, as if they were actual sisters. Kira then brushed passed Stiles, walking out the curtain that replaced the front door. Stiles looked down at her feet, still confused at how the locals, including Kira and Lydia, walk around with no shoes or socks.   
Malia grabbed Stiles’ hand, pulling him out the curtain and setting up a decent pace next to Kira, practically dragging Stiles along. 

“So, how long you been in town?” Kira asked, smiling and waving at shop-owners and other local looking people, her legs keeping a good stride. Stiles looked up, the sun nearly blinding him. He almost laughed while be blinked rapidly. He really needed to learn how to get used to the sun have a blinding yellow color. 

“About three days, give or take.” Malia answered, taking up walk next to Kira, leaving Stiles as the third wheel behind the two. “From Spain. But, we’re here for a while.” Malia stated further. Kira took a sharp left, almost getting rammed by a golf cart whizzing by, Stiles moving as close to the buildings and far away from the street as possible. 

“Has there always been no cars here?” Stiles asked Kira, watching as another gold cart zoomed by, the people in the back yelling loudly. If he could get one, Stiles was totally down to ride in one. 

“Practically. There are a few cars, but no one actually ever buys cars. Our streets are too narrow, and the shipping costs are too pricey.” Kira explained, turning her head back at Stiles, who nodded. Kira took another left, before stopping at a cute bakery on the corner of the block. 

“Best pastries in town.” Kira declared, waving at the worker through the shop window. “If you need anything, I work two blocks to the right. Big sign at the front that says “reef tours” can’t miss it. Have a good class.” Kira finished, patting Malia’s shoulder and walking briskly towards where she said her work was. 

“Up for a pastry?” Stiles asked Malia, who shrugged, opening the door and heading into the tiny bakery. Stiles ordered, paid, and sat in a corner seat, Malia coming up beside him seconds later. 

“Well, I think I found my new home.” Malia said, smiling at Stiles, who laughed and took a bite of his food. The deep texture of colors even in a tiny pastry was spectacular, and Stiles wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it, no matter how bright the sun. 

But, there was one problem with the color. It meant Stiles would have to let go of this, with Malia, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet. Malia had become his everything.   
Suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts, Malia gasped, her eyes closing and her body falling back against the wall behind her. 

“Malia?” Stiles asked loudly, looking to the counter, all the workers having disappeared to the back of the bakery. “Malia?!” He practically shouted, shaking her shoulders. Suddenly, she gasped, her eyes flying wide, her breaths coming out shallow. 

“Santo Carajo.” Malia breathed, and Stiles almost laughed at her Spanish cussing. Malia’s eyes fluttered, and she stood, pushing through the doors of the bakery and running outside. Stiles stood quickly, grabbing his half-finished pastry and following her. 

“Malia, what is going on?” Stiles asked confusedly, really hoping Malia wasn’t going insane considering she was just staring at everything in awe. 

“Color.” Malia stated, running over to Stiles and looking into his face. “My color.” She clarified, in awe, and Stiles almost shook, while a thought that hoped for world peace crept into his mind. 


	6. Who Knew It Could Be You

6: Who Knew It Could Be You

This particular day had been kicking Lydia in the ass. She wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, she was just slower. It might have been because Kira didn’t come in on Sunday’s, but Lydia felt it probably had something to do with the fact that Jackson had been gone for longer than he’d ever been gone before. He normally just left for a night or two. Never three or more. 

She looked down at the table she had been wiping, shaking out of her thoughts and mentally kicking herself for getting distracted again while at work for the millionth time, checking the time. The dinner rush would be starting soon, along with happy hour and the first round of drunks who wouldn’t leave until close. Plus, it was a Sunday night, so many people were out till the wee hours of the morning drinking their souls away. 

The color had seemed more vivid today as well, for a reason Lydia couldn’t quite understand. She had intended to do some research on it in the morning, but then she got caught making hangover remedies to two of the wildest 21 drinkers Lydia had ever met. 

Malia was a character, and a wonderful one. She was definitely a bit socially awkward, but, boy, could she dance and party. She knew what was attractive about her, and she knew what was fun for herself. She definitely had the 21 down, and would probably never leave it. That was really why it was odd she was still in college, most part 21 newcomers leave college as soon as possible.   
Kira on the other hand, Lydia thought was socially awkward in an odd way. She drank, a lot, and was quiet and extremely cute, but her party skills could use a little help. Partying with Malia the night prior seemed the be one of the happiest Kira seemed in a while, or so Lydia thought, but what did she know. 

Lydia sighed, realizing she had let her mind trail off once more for no reason at all except random considerations that were really none of her business. 

“Perk up, bitch, the cavalry’s here.” Came a happy voice from across the floor, and Lydia turned with a smile on her face, grinning at Kira and motioning for her to go up the stairs. 

“Let me finish wiping up these tables, then I’m all yours at the bar.” Lydia promised, working faster on her tables, honestly excited to go and chat with Kira. Kira rarely ever showed up Sunday nights, so Lydia was curious as to what made Kira come on this certain night. 

She finished wiping the tables, heading up the stairs with the bus-bin and dumping it in the sink behind the bar, then turning to Kira, who had clear excitement on her face. 

“Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Lydia joked, smiling to Kira and beginning the house special of the day with her special twist for Kira, knowing all of Kira’s personal tastes. 

“Don’t worry, I know you get off early today, I won’t make you stay, I was actually going to make a request. Our last tour of the day was cancelled and I have the boat free all of tonight, I’m thinking 21 party with night snorkeling. You down?” Kira asked, and Lydia cocked her head to the side, thinking about an excuse she could use, when a different voice piped up from a bit further away, Lydia raising her head from the drink she just finished for Kira. 

“Down for what?” Malia’s definite voice chimed as she approached the bar, a glimmer Lydia hadn’t noticed before shining in her eyes. 

“What’s got you so chipper?” Lydia questioned, seeing Stiles approach behind Malia and giving him a wink as well. 

“Oh nothing, just my motherfucking color.” Malia said nonchalantly, and Kira squealed. Lydia grinned, wide and genuine. 

“Well then, this one’s on us. Need to celebrate the color day somehow. This’ll be a good start!” Lydia declared, Malia beaming back, radiance shining across her tan skin. “You too, Stiles?” Lydia inquired, waving the bottle of rum around, trying to make it look tempting. “You have color we can celebrate?” Lydia laughed, Malia bobbing her head. 

“Mine came a few days ago, but better late then never.” Stiles piped up, Lydia forgetting, once again, how much she adored the smooth sound of his voice. His color has probably popped up at the exact same time as hers, which seemed almost ironic, considering it was the day after those students had arrived and also the day after Jackson had left her. 

Lydia mixed the drinks, giving the couple each one, and claiming one for herself, which she rarely did on the job, her mind feeling victorious. Three out of four 21’s all getting their color in the same week. 

“Lydia just got hers a few days ago too.” Kira spouted, and Lydia swatted her arm, her cheeks reddening as Malia whooped and Stiles raised his glass to her. 

“To finding our way out of this filthy 21 hell.” Malia toasted, all four of them taking a sip from the cocktail Lydia had mixed up, Lydia smiling at her own work in pride. 

* * * *

The day had been a good one, is what Stiles thought. He had been overjoyed at learning Malia had seen her color, though many thoughts that he in no way felt like dealing with always entered his mind after he thought of Malia’s triumph. Malia had her color, and that meant Malia could leave Stiles. 

Now, as Stiles had been pondering the whole day, he had slowly convinced himself Malia and him had found their color for each other. Sure, they’d known each other for a while before they both found their color, but it could have been the change in environment or the timing. Er, at least, that was what Stiles had attempted to convince himself, and he definitely remembered learning in grade-school that something like this situation could happen, no matter how rare. 

Of course, other thoughts intruded on his safety thoughts. Malia’s color could also be for someone else, considering how wonderful she was and how Stiles seemed to carry bad luck. Plus, Malia had found hers days later than Stiles, and Stiles had popped up when he was upstairs practically alone, save for Lydia at the bar, as always, and a few random customers.

He dragged himself out of his brutal thoughts, bringing himself back to the present, where he was absentmindedly watching and half-listening to Malia, Lydia, and Kira chatter, Malia and Kira gulping drinks down, Lydia’s strawberry-blonde hair bouncing around her head as she moved about behind the bar, occasionally waiting on other tables. 

Everyone seemed to know Lydia and Kira as well, which reminded Stiles of Beacon Hills, his home town, and how everyone knew the nerdy, awkward and dangerous in a bad kind of way Sheriff’s son, who was always causing some kind of trouble. The thought of him and Scott running around the woods looking for random supernatural nonsense brought a smile to his face. The first adventure Stiles and his best friend Scott had embarked on had led Scott to Alison, which put a damper on his smile, just as Malia said something to him. 

“What’d you say?” He grasped his thoughts, frustrated at how Malia seemed to always catch him while he was spending some time inside of his brain contemplating his past.

“Well, I was just chatting with Kira, and she has the night off and offered to bring us out onto the water for night snorkeling on her boat.” Malia said, and Stiles almost sighed. “You in? It’ll be fun, we can meet a bunch of 21 locals.” Malia taunted, knowing how irritated Stiles could get when Malia constantly reminded him of their situation in a way that was supposed to be joking. Yes, he adored Malia, but he always hated that reminder that he would be stuck the same age forever.

“Malia, we have class tomorrow morning.” Stiles reminded, almost sounding like a scolding mother. Since when was he the one who went to class, he had never attended class in University when they were in Spain, he was the one always ditching. Maybe his color really was changing him in a direction he wasn’t expecting. Stiles shook the thought off, looking over to Malia to see a smirk rising on her lips.

“Well, in that case, it seems that tomorrow morning Malia Tate and Stiles Stilinski will have both come down with a terrible illness that will pass after a day.” Malia offered, the devilish grin almost sending Stiles soaring into a yes, Lydia shaking her head and Kira snorting. Stiles had to admit, he admired Malia’s endurance. 

“Oh, what a pity.” Kira said, and Lydia offered a fake pout, bringing a genuine smile to Stiles lips at how friendly these two natives were with Malia, a complete outsider. Sometimes all friendship took was 21 and a few drinks. 

“Well, nonetheless, I think I’ll take the night off from boating. I wanted to take a walk on the beach,” Stiles said, not caring how lame his excuse sounded. “You know, with the color and all.” Stiles quickly clarified, not wanting to sound like a complete dope.

“Well, I have the night off, but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, so I won’t go out either.” Lydia said, earning a groan from Malia and a few insults in Mayan that Stiles assumed were not friendly from Kira. “Sorry guys, I have to cover my bills. There’s a beach walk that goes straight back to the University. I could show it to you, Stiles, if you’d like?” Lydia questioned in a way that was more of a statement. 

“Bien!” Malia said, patting Stiles’ shoulder, “Stiles needs the company.” She then turned to Kira, who smiled in an adorable way. “Lead me to the party boat. Vamos a fiesta!” Malia declared, and Kira stood, offering Lydia a grin and Stiles a nod before walking off with Malia down the stairs of the hut, disappearing. 

“So,” Stiles said, turning back to Lydia, who had begun washing glasses with a knowing grin on her face, Stiles finding the look almost innocent, “about that walk…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Hope that was enjoyed, know that chapter lacked a lot of tension but the next one is crazy full of it, so I decided to balance it out more, and this is more of a filler chapter. Really excited to share the next one though, wink!


	7. Color and Denial, Not a Good Style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay chapter is here early this week because I just had to post this hehe. Enjoy!

7:Color and Denial, Not a Good Style

  
There was a light cool breeze flowing through the air, pairing nicely with the humidity, the sun’s hot rays going down with every second as it set along the ocean line.  
Stiles felt like he was in some ' _finding yourself’_ movie. The star travels to an exotic land, looks at the sunset, finds themselves, finds their soulmate, lives happily ever after. Er, some bullshit along those lines.

Stiles looked away from the sunset for a second to look to Lydia, who was sitting next to him, her arms looped under her knees, which she had pulled to her chest, her head resting on them. Her bouncy curls and sundress flowed slightly with the breeze, and Stiles felt the movie vibe grow stronger, Lydia looking like the perfect _beautiful and exotic costar_ . Stiles looked back to the sunset.

“Magical, right?” Lydia said a few minutes later, her voice soft against the splashing of the waves on the sand. Stiles looked down to his lap, his legs stretched in front of him, his hand near Lydia’s hip, resting in the sand. “I used to come out here with my friends or my parents for events.” Lydia paused, remembering, Stiles looking away from his hands and around at the beach. “We call this beach _Los Locales Aman_. You’d only find it if you were following the deep path of the locals, so it’s become the Local’s beach.” Lydia finished, her soft voice cutting off.

After her shift ended, Lydia had walked with him in mostly silence, until stopping at this small, secluded beach, sitting herself down on the sand without a word, Stiles really having no choice but to sit with her considering he had no clue how to find his way back. A few minutes later he was glad he had, because this was by far the best view of the Caribbean sunset he’d seen through his visit.

“Everyone was always focused on whatever event was happening, but I was always looking out at the water. This beach was and will probably always be my safe place.” Stiles looked at her then, her eyes watching the sunset, some weird emotion on her face. “I would look out and wish. And when I was sad, I’d come here, and my mom would always tell me the story of how one day I’d find my soulmate, and the sadness and black and whites would go away, and we’d always remind each other to remember we love each other.” Lydia finished, her face turning towards Stiles, their eyes meeting, a foot or less between their faces.

Stiles looked away, back at the colors of the sunset, feeling guilty.

“I wonder,” Stiles started, not really sure what was coming out of his mouth. “I wonder what that felt like.” Stiles chocked out. “I never supported the Soulmate idea. I just, it didn’t work with me. I had a plan, my friend’s and I would all go to college, all stay together, all stay friends after highschool.” He could hear Lydia’s hair whipped by a strong gust, not looking to her. “But I ended up alone. I kept going, I made it to Spain, I met Malia. And I just, got this color, and my whole plan with Malia was warped.” Stiles said, not sure what had provoked him to lay that all out on Lydia.

Lydia was looking at him, he could feel her eyes on the side of his head, but he couldn’t let himself look at her. He felt guilty, and he didn’t make Lydia out to be a dumbass.

“Guess color does that.” Was all Lydia said, and Stiles looked to her in surprise by her statement, seeing sadness on her face. “Jackson felt the same way as you, and then he left me. And now my color’s here. And I want-” Lydia broke off, her eyes meeting Stiles in a shocked kind of way.  
Suddenly, Stiles color flared, a flash that he barely caught and was gone in a blink. He blinked rapidly, seeing Lydia doing the same, the realization sinking in on him after the flare, the color of Lydia’s face even brighter.

Arriving in San Pedro. A day later, with Lydia on the same level, gaining color. Lydia gaining color on the same day. The guilt of being with Malia around Lydia, the regret of knowing what’s to come with Malia. With Lydia. With his life. The heightening color and emotion around Lydia. The quick liking to her. The opening up. He was never the smart or quick one, but with this, he just, knew.

* * * *

It was him. It had been him this whole damn time. It hadn’t been Jackson, her life hadn’t been completely worthless. Jackson had been wrong. She had been first. She wasn’t made to just be his rebound. She was made for someone, and he was right in front of her.

It had to be him. Everything pointed to it. Since the day he had stepped foot in her workplace, _everything_ pointed to _him._

Well, there was one way to find out, but Lydia knew in her heart there was a high chance she couldn’t do something like that, that she didn’t maintain the confidence in herself to take action.

Stiles was staring right back into her eyes, Lydia assuming he had just connected the dots as well. They had moved even closer to each other somehow, and Stiles wasn’t backing away, Lydia unaware if that was a good or bad sign.

Panic kicked in suddenly. Lydia remembered the speech he had just gave, about how he didn’t want a Soulmate. She could be stuck, never happy, always pining for him. The terrible friend that pulled Malia’s love away from her, forever the reject.

_Malia._

_Lydia_ closed her eyes tightly, opening them again to find Stiles’ mouth slightly agape. He pulled back a bit, and Lydia knew what was about to happen. In her heart she knew, in her mind she knew, her body just wasn’t expecting it, not at all, she couldn’t have gotten this close to her dreams only to have them smashed.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, the dismay clear in his voice, causing Lydia to close her eyes, fighting the urge to freeze like this forever, ignore the two words he said, to kiss him and seal the deal, suffer the consequences of her actions later.

But, Lydia was smart. She knew what that would do for the both of them. So, she pulled her head back as well, resting it against her knees once more, angry at herself, knowing she’d look back at her weakness in this moment forever.

“The University’s two blocks down, one left, one block, and then a right straight into the back entrance of the dorms. Better get back, want to sleep before that early class tomorrow morning.” Lydia said, the kindest of a dismissal she could offer to him. He looked to her, she felt his worried eyes on her face, but she wouldn’t look up. She wouldn’t cry.

“Lydia…” He said softly, and Lydia could already hear the choice made in his voice. A second later, she heard the soft padding of feet against stand, and, after a minute or so, he was gone.  
Lydia let out a breath, a single tear winding it’s way down her cheek and onto the sand, followed by another, and another. She stood, padding into the water until she was in up to her calves, the bottom of her dress soaking. She looked out at the sunset, almost completely gone by now, the moon in sight, already prepared to sweep in and take over for the night.

In the distance she could hear loud bar music, and could see lights from boats paving their way through the water and into the sky. Kira and Malia were on one of those boats, partying their souls away, Malia totally unaware that Lydia almost stole her boyfriend from her forever.

Lydia knew, in her heart, she did the right thing by letting Stiles go. But, she couldn’t help but wonder to herself what it had been for. Malia had just found her color, the chances were extremely high that Stiles and her weren’t even Soulmates. Perhaps Malia would find her Soulmate while she was here and leave Stiles to Lydia.

Lydia shook her head at her own thoughts, disappointed in herself. She was worth more than Stiles half love and second choice. Years with Jackson had taught her that, if anything. No, her and

Stiles could never become a reality, no matter how badly her heart ached for that deal sealer.

She waded back out of the water and headed back onto the streets towards her home, knowing that no matter how much she re-assured herself, there was absolutely no way she would ever recover, and would ever turn 22.

Lydia found her way back to the house about an hour later after that, not surprised when she found it empty. What did she expect, her friends to be back from their fun just to hang out with her? No, she was the one who had insisted they go on and not wait for her.

She sighed, contemplating the past week and a half since those damned exchange students had showed up in her life, twisting her upside down and around again. She headed to the fridge, hoping some food could maybe cheer her up.

She opened the fridge, just as she heard a thump behind her, coming from the doorway. She pivoted on her heel and gasped, her eyebrows shooting up in confusion.

“Jackson?” She asked, seeing his eyes almost bloodshot, his body leaned mostly against the doorway. “Jackson, why are you here?” He stumbled towards her, something dark in his eyes, obviously drunk.

“I came for you, Lydia.” He said, and Lydia took a step, her back hitting the fridge, her heart beat speeding up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, sorry for that cliffhanger. Appreciate comments and kudos!


	8. Feel or Flee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I seem to be taking a little longer with every upload, but this chapter is long so I hope that makes up for it! Really happy with how this is going. As always, comments and kudos inspire me!  
> P.S. There are two direct show references in this chapter, see if you can spot both of them ;)  
> I'll stop babbling. Enjoy!

8: Feel or Flee

  
“Jackson, you dumped me, we’re over.” Lydia said, Jackson taking another step closer, Lydia’s hands beginning to shake. Things never went well when Jackson was drunk and angry, and he had that exact expression on her face. She rubbed her upper bicep, feeling the area where his last drunk angry moment had taken its toll.

“No Lydia, I need you back,” He said, stumbling closer to her, and Lydia slid past the fridge, trying to spot a way to maneuver past him, not in the mood to have more bruises just because Jackson’s life wasn’t going the way he wanted it to.

“No, Jackson, you don’t. Please, just go.” Lydia half pleaded half ordered, surprised at how steady she made her voice, despite her fear. Jackson looked more hostile than usual for some reason today, and Lydia really didn’t feel that she needed to learn the reasoning for this fact.

“Lydia, you still don’t get it.” Jackson said, his voice rumbling deeply, scraping against his throat. _That’s got to be at least 10…no, 15?_ Lydia mentally thought to herself, trying to decipher how many drinks he had and what he drank, while Jackson just stood there, not moving closer but instead moving himself to the table, leaning himself against the top of one of the chairs. Lydia whipped her head around quickly, wondering where she put the landline, suddenly remembering she had to cancel the service after Jackson cut her off. She was completely alone with this angry drunk. Her mind raced.

 _C’mon Lydia, you’re a genius, think of something._ She thought to herself, realizing the best she could do was stall Jackson until hopefully Malia, Kira or another friend showed up at her home.

“No Jackson, I don’t understand. Because we don’t get each other, we’re not meant for each other. Now please, calm down. I can make you some hangover remedy.” Lydia offered, and Jackson growled, Lydia cringing her eyes, knowing it was a long shot. She slowly slid towards the other edge of the counter to where the stove was, closer to the door and further from the table, hoping to at least put as much distance between the two of them as possible.

“Lydia.” Jackson said, and just like that, he was there, in front of her, blocking her path. _How does he move that damn fast when he’s that plastered?_ Lydia wondered, realizing she had nothing to back up towards, Jackson cornering her between the wall and the stove. He loomed over her and Lydia kept her eyes directly on his, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

“You are mine, Lydia. You have always been mine.” Jackson said, and Lydia shook her head. He grabbed her shoulders hungrily, and Lydia winced, immediately cursing herself for showing weakness. She opened her mouth, about to argue. “No, I don’t want to hear that Soulmate shit you spout. You are mine, always have been.” Lydia almost snarled, pissed at the words he was choosing to use.

“No Jackson, I belong to me, and you’re too late. I’ve already found a Soulmate.” Lydia said, spitting out the last word, Jackson blinking his eyes in shock.

“No, you haven’t. Not anymore.” Jackson said, and Lydia met his eyes in confusion, right before he pulled her shoulders forward and then jerked her body back against the wall, her head hitting it, a loud and hollow thud going through every bone in her body before her eyes closed themselves and the world became black.

* * * *

Stiles day, or now, night, had gone from amazing to utterly awful. After he had left Lydia on the beach, he had wandered, completely forgetting the directions she had given him while he was lost in his head, typical Stiles.

He felt horrible, and guilty. There Lydia was, this beautiful, kind, cheerful and sass-filled 21 year old, fulfilling every 21 year old’s dream, and Stiles wasn’t willing to give it to her. She was wonderful, and for some reason, the world decided that ****him out of the entire planet was to be her Soulmate. How did he get so lucky and still couldn’t bring himself to sealing it?

Malia. That was really who he needed to talk to, sort through his thoughts with. She was practical, and not always the brightest, but she understood him. He somehow found his way back to Lydia’s bar, sitting himself on the dock next to it, waiting for Kira’s party boat to return with Malia.

The sun had completely set now, and the moonlit water was mysterious and beautiful, many boats still out. The streets were still busy, and Lydia’s bar was full as well. The night was the best time to forget. A memory hit him, and he didn’t even try to push it away this time.

_“Mr. Stilinski,” Coach almost yelled, and Stiles turned from where he was whispering to Scott to look at his teacher and Coach, raising an eyebrow, Coach’s face full of pure annoyance. “Can you please come up to the board and answer the questions I’ve written. Unless you’d rather keep flirting with Justin Bieber over there.” Coach said, causing the rest of the class to laugh, Stiles and Scott sharing a look._

_Stiles approached the board, scanning the three questions. He wrote the answers quickly, making his way back to his seat, full of satisfaction that he could actually answer the questions._

_“Well kids, it looks as if a miracle has occurred today.” Coach said, the class laughing again. “Alright lets review this. Yes, number one is right, the way to Seal your bond with your Soulmate is a kiss. I know, its as disgusting. Stop making eyes at me Greenberg, or you never play again. Number two, yes, the Soulmate does have to be in the same city as you. Bummer, right. And yes, number three is correct as well, when around a Soulmate color flashes, emotions heighten, and protective reflexes become higher. Oh I know class, so gushy.”_

Stiles smiled to himself, missing Coach for a few seconds. There never was a teacher quite like him. Stiles actually missed a lot of things about the odd town of Beacon Hills, California.

Suddenly, a splash hit his legs, and he looked up, coming out of his thoughts to see a boat pull up, Malia standing on the front of the boat, clearly drunk and looking as glorious as ever. Stiles smiled, though he was sure Malia was probably unable to see him considering how late and dark it was, adding on her obvious drunkeness.

She was everything Stiles had ever wanted and loved. But, now, after Lydia’s unwanted beauty and wonder, Stiles couldn’t feel guilty by his doubt of Malia being all he wanted. _Curse the bloody soulmate pull._

Kira stepped out next to Malia as they approached the dock, taking a flying leap off the ship and onto the dock, landing semi-gracefully, turning back to Malia and attempting to motion for something.

Stiles smiled, knowing there was no way drunk Malia would ever get the message, so finally Kira just called another person out and they threw Kira the rope, Malia frowning at the boy as if it was his fault for her idiocy. Kira laughed, pulling the boat in and securing the rope onto the dock, obviously having done it millions of times, her hands working gracefully. Stiles appreciated the way Kira and her boat seemed to have a bond. It reminded Stiles of his beloved years old blue jeep that was back in California.

Malia hopped off the front first, stumbling onto the dock, Kira catching her before she could faceplant in the clear water. Stiles stood, approaching the two girls.

“Stiles!” Malia exclaimed, just at the same time Kira curiously piped: “where’s Lydia?” Stiles looked to both the girls, gulping.

“She went home, said something about her shift tiring her too much or something.” Stiles said, lying through his teeth. Kira and Malia frowned in sync, Stiles wrapping Malia’s arm around his shoulders and supporting her.

“Bummer, I wanted to tell her ‘bout my color!” Kira declared, and Stiles smiled in a congratulating way. _God that reminds me, I have to tell her_. Stiles swallowed, and Malia looked to him. He froze, hoping she didn’t notice the change in his mood.

“Well then lets go!” Malia declared, and Stiles inhaled deeply, thankful that Malia was too drunk to make out Stiles’ obvious shakiness. And then he realized-

“Maybe you guys should go back without me.” Stiles said, and the two girls gave him a questioning look. Stiles mind whirled while he quickly thought up a good enough excuse. “You know,” he said, patting Malia’s back as they began walking, “I’m tired as well and want to go back to campus. Catch up on some sleep and work.” Stiles said, cringing at how poorly the lie sounded.

“Stiles, you’re totally lying.” Kira said before Malia could, and Stiles whipped his head to look at her, Kira shrugging.

“No, I’m not!” Stiles said defensively and Kira turned a corner and closing half of the distance between her and Stiles. Honestly, Stiles could say Kira was a bit terrifying if she got intense.

“Oh yeah? Then how do you define lying?” Kira pushed, Malia snorting, Stiles pretty sure she was half asleep, considering how much weight she was putting on his shoulders.

“Reclining in a… horizontal position…?” Stiles tried, and Malia laughed at that, reassuring Stiles she was still awake.

“Well, shit.” Kira said, shrugging and finally letting Stiles lame defenses go. “Just one more block till Lydia’s. Just stop by to keep Malia company?” Kira asked, and Stiles gave in. Kira was very persuasive when she wanted to be, apparently.

Finally, they reached Lydia’s small cement house, the front curtain waving open, the lights on. Kira walked in first, shoving the curtain to the side, Stiles hearing her start speaking, probably about to throw a party with Lydia’s good drinks and beautiful smile. _Out of your head, Stiles._

Stiles turned to Malia, unwrapping her arm from his shoulders, leaning her against the wall. Malia brushed off his mothering and he stepped back, smiling at her.

“Fiesta es poco loco, eh Senorita?” Stiles said, smirking, and Malia scoffed, nodding back at him. Stiles knew she loved when he spoke her native language to her.

“STILES! MALIA! IN HERE, NOW!” Kira screamed from inside the house, and Stiles’ lifted a brow and rushed inside, Malia on his heel. Inside, Kira was pacing through the kitchen and living room. Stiles eyes swept the kitchen, living room, and through the doorway back into Lydia’s bedroom. “You’re sure she came back here?” Kira said, walking right up to Stiles and looking straight up at him, her eyes ablaze.

“Well yeah, where else would she go?” Stiles said, not really getting why Kira was freaking out.

“This is bad.” Kira said, and Malia walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder, the Malia way of attempting some sort of comfort.

“Kira, talk to us.” Malia said, and Kira gripped Malia’s arm on her shoulder before falling into Malia’s chest, Malia looking over Kira’s small body at Stiles, who rapidly motioned for Malia to put her arms around Kira. Malia did so, a bit awkwardly, and Kira inhaled.

“It was Jackson. Jackson must’ve taken her.” Kira said, sniffling.


	9. Blast the Void Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for such a late update, my classes have been whooping me. Anyways, at least it's here. And this story, sad enough, is almost over. We've still got a few chapters left, but it's hitting climax.  
> Also, as a side note, go follow me @AKBruce on tumblr to interact with me, vote on different fics I should post, fanart comps, suggest prompts, and much more.  
> Now, please, enjoy the chapter. :)

9: Blast the Void Past

  
_Lydia looked down at her drink, swirling it in her palm a bit before taking a sip and placing the drink down._

_Today was Lydia’s half second 21st birthday. 30 months of sheer 21 living, no Soulmate, no nothing. Lydia took another sip, not moving her eyes from the spot where they were trained on the table._

_Kira was busy with her job. Lydia needed to get a new job, after dropping out of her studies, deciding they weren’t worth it. A thud sounded beside Lydia, and she raised her head, looking to what had landed besides her._

_It was a man, beautiful at first sight, with intense eyes and a demeaning look about him. He looked over to Lydia and nodded to her, his eyes making their way up and down her body twice before landing on her eyes._

Lydia gasped, her head shooting up, her breathing shallow, her body being held down by something. She looked down, seeing that her arms and chest were being restrained by a rope of some kind, secured to some object.

Lydia looked up and around, noticing how the room was small and dimly lit. She blinked a few times, shaking her head in attempt to get her hair out of her face. Whipping her head up, she took the opportunity to look up, seeing that the room was small with grey walls and Jackson, sitting in a chair in front of a desk, which seemed to be the only other furniture in the room.

“You’re awake, good,” Jackson said, his eyes gleaming., looking up once and giving her a once over before looking back down at whatever was on the desk. He must have sobered up a tad if his voice was less slurred and more smooth like the regular. “We were just leaving.” Lydia furrowed her brows, pulling on her wrists in frustration. _Where the hell was she? How did she get here? How would she get out of here?_

But, she asked none of those, “What the _fuck_ Jackson _?!”_ Lydia yelled, her face flushing red. She looked back down at her feet, trying to think of a way to wriggle her legs free from the rope Jackson had tied around them and to whatever she was secured to. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She continued, glaring at him, willing him to raise his head from whatever he was looking at on the desk to look at her.

“You should feel honored. I did decide to settle on you,” Jackson said, finally looking back up at her. She just pulled on her arm bonds harder, earning a laugh from Jackson. “You’re tied to a cement pole. Plus, you’re weak. Don’t even bother.” Jackson said, standing from the chair but not approaching, his regular swagger hidden away somewhere.

“You tied me up? You sick son of a bitch.” Lydia said, hoping to go in a confident manner, hiding how her bones were rattling against each other in fear.

“You didn’t seem to mind it when we were together,” Jackson just shrugged, and Lydia tried to hide her wince, remembering all the horrible memories. It wasn’t like he had ever asked if she liked it or not. “Aww, Lyds, are you scared?” He taunted, and Lydia nearly growled.

“Have you gone insane?” Lydia said instead, forcing herself to keep calm, trying to gage the situation. _How do you beat a psychopath in their own game?_ Lydia remembered all the times Jackson had almost lost it, attempting to string together a pattern of the memories, forming a long misshapen trail.

“What? You scared your Soulmate will get angry?” Jackson continued to taunt, Lydia confused on why he would even bother before it clicked in her head, the trail shaping into a straight line. _He wanted her to want to go with him_. She inwardly sighed. Typical Jackson. He was slowly approaching her now, and the machines in her head began to overload, trying to find a way out of the situation.

“This isn’t you, Jackson,” seemed to be the best she could come up with. Jackson laughed, but she really didn’t blame him. “What are you going to do anyways? The island is tiny, and you can’t force me out of the country against my will.” Lydia stated, her mind starting to formulate through the circuit explosions.

“Oh Lydia, you know how I hate playing the games your smart minds comes up for me,” Jackson continued to tease, and Lydia cursed silently to herself. Damn him. “Besides, who ever said anything about us leaving by plane?” Jackson inquired, right in front of Lydia now. “Rest now, you’ll need it before we catch our boat.” Jackson said, and Lydia gave one more full attempt of breaking any part of her body free before Jackson once again slammed her head against the wall, the last thing Lydia thinking of being Stiles’ eyes.

  
* * * *

  
“Wait- what do you mean, Jackson took her?” Malia asked, looking down to the top of Kira’s head, Kira sniffling once more.

“Jackson as in Jackson our Professor?” Stiles clarified, and Kira nodded. Stiles thought back to the classes he had been in with the Professor. Nothing had really seemed very off with him. _And he had a thing with Lydia?_ “Him and Lydia?”

Kira visibly inhaled, taking a step back from Malia, “Yes, Jackson Whittemore. Lydia and Him met around a year ago. He was really into her, she was in a bad place. He was always terrible, and they were totally on off,” Kira’s eyes seemed to gloss over, the look Stiles knew too well as remembering a memory, getting lost in one’s vast mind. “He-he-he would h-hit her and sh-she would come see me with bruises everywhere and say she was fine and that he was just angry a-and I-I just didn’t kn-know what to do and I-I should of turned him in, I-I-I…” Kira drifted off, her stuttering turning into sobs as Malia quickly pulled Kira into her chest once more.

“Alright, we believe you,” Malia said, as soothingly as she could, being Malia. She glanced to Stiles, who shook his head. He wasn’t ready to speak just yet, and his head was spinning. _Why hadn’t Lydia said anything to him about it?_ But why would she? He couldn’t help her. He couldn’t even accept her.

“Stiles?” Stiles raised his head, his eyes meeting Kira’s teary ones. “What aren’t you telling us? Something’s been off about you,” Kira asked tentatively, her eyes bright, Malia raising her eyes to Stiles, a single eyebrow arched. Stiles hand flew to the back of his neck, as he realized he was in a compromised position.

“What?” Stiles asked, attempting nonchalance, “Nothing’s been off with me. This whole situation is just crazy,” Stiles said, brushing past Malia and Kira, approaching the tiny kitchen counter and going to the cabinet, reaching for a glass. He grabbed one, turning to the sink to get himself water when he suddenly froze.

“Stiles?” Malia asked, Stiles not turning his head away from what he was staring at. Right next to where the counter met the wall, a part of the crappy plaster of the wall was bashed in. Not severely, but it was visible. Just below it, on the ground, in a spot no person would spot unless standing right over the corner, was some shimmering broken glass.

“What’s that?” Malia asked, bending over to pick it up, Stiles not really processing what Malia was saying or doing. 

Malia looked closer at the pieces and gasped, Stiles grabbing them from her hand and placing them on the table in front of Kira, arranging them like a big puzzle. He raised both his brows, Malia muttering something under her breath, both actions done in confusion at the end result of what the glass made.

Kira sniffled louder, her eyes glossing from unshed tears one more, “It’s Lydia’s trophy from work…” Kira drifted, picking up one of the pieces, “It was a plaque-like piece of glass. Best manager. Jackson always hated it because he didn’t believe she could earn anything. He thought she was just stupid.” Kira hugged one of the shards to her chest.

Stiles turned to Malia, who shared a look with him, before both turned to Kira. Stiles felt Malia inhale next to him.

“Kira,” Kira raised her head at Malia’s strict tone, “We should call the police. Find where Jackson might be keeping Lydia. As long as you’re sure it was definitely him,” Malia said, and Kira nodded at Malia’s words, her tears stopping.

“The police can’t help, they’ll brush it off,” Kira said, standing and walking towards where Malia and Stiles were gathered, looking down at the shards. “We have to think strategically, and we’ll need evidence. I think first we should-” Kira started, perking up, when a figure suddenly appeared at the doorway, deep breaths being heard from them. Stiles and Malia both perked up, readying themselves for action. “Liam?” Kira asked, Stiles and Malia both turning towards Kira in confusion.

“Kira, thank God.” The kid- who Kira had just referred to as Liam- spoke up. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Liam breathed out, and Malia whipped her head to Kira, Stiles imitating her actions.

“Guys, this is Liam, he’s one of Lydia’s employees at the bar,” Kira explained, and Stiles bobbed his head, still not fully understanding. “Liam, Lydia’s not here, you’ll have to go to another employee.” Kira said, Stiles surprised at how calm her voice had gotten from her breakdown a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, she’s not here because she’s on the pier with Jackson, aboard a boat!” Liam declared, and Kira exhaled, her eyes widening. Stiles gulped. _So it was true._ “I was taking out the trash, and I saw Jackson practically dragging Lydia across the pier to a boat.” Liam said, and Stiles could tell that this young boy knew a lot about Lydia. More than Stiles knew, probably. Which, for some reason caused irritation within Stiles.

“Liam, could you show us the exact location of the boat?” Stiles asked, a plan suddenly forming in his head. Liam nodded, and Stiles turned to Kira, who was wearing a look of determination. “Alright, Kira, looks like we’re going to need your boat.” 


	10. Necessary Lifestyle in Color

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooh! I know it's a late upload, but at least it's an upload, and it's longer for me. I've been learning to write longer chapters lately, which I'm quite proud of.  
> As always, your comments and kudos are well appreciated, I always try to reply to comments.  
> Now without further ado, enjoy this *emotional* chapter.

10: Necessary Lifestyle in Color

  
“Stiles, hold on, slow down!” Malia called after Stiles, who was charging towards the pier, his mind not in the mood to talk to Malia, which was quite rare for him. “Stiles Stilinski!” Malia yelled, and Stiles turned to see her feet planted in place and her arms crossed over her chest. Stiles sighed exasperatedly and pivoted on his heel, taking a few steps so he was generally close to her.

“Malia, if you couldn’t tell, were kind of in a rush,” Stiles said, not trying to hide the bite from his words. He loved Malia, he really did. But, for some reason, he felt as if he was going to combust until Lydia was safe at home, preferably by his side. Blame it on the soulmate bond, or something.

Malia wasn’t having it. Reaching her arms out, she grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and pulled her towards him, so that their faces were inches apart, their noses almost touching. Stiles breathed out through his mouth, his eyes narrowing on Malia’s eyes, and then down to her lips.

He wasn’t sure how, or why, or what was the cause, or when it started occurring, but Stiles’ really wasn’t in the mood to kiss her and re-assure her. All he really wanted to do was find Lydia and wrap his arms around her, which absolutely terrified him, to the extent that he just wanted to throw his hands in the air and scream.

Malia quirked a brow. “What is up with you? You’ve been weird all night,” Malia said, and Stiles shook his head. For the first time since realizing, his emotions and thoughts were all going in one direction. To just _tell her._

“You want to know? You really want to know?” Stiles said, so tired of living in this non-color fantasy with Malia. It was time to open his eyes and face what was in front of him. What could have been in front of him, that is, if he hadn’t thrown her away like common trash. Stiles blinked, hard, before breathing out deeply. 

“Yes, I really do.” Malia said, no doubt in her eyes at all. Stiles considered her expression, suddenly lost on how he thought the two of them could end up as a forever. She wasn’t like him at all. His brain was overloading, the emotions hitting his core, his anger at Malia stopping him from getting Lydia overriding any common sense that his brain was trying to flow through to his heart.

“Lydia. Lydia and I have a special bond. A bond I was going to ignore, until I realized that I had pushed aside what I really needed in my life. The only color that could really save me from my void,” Stiles said, and realization began to dawn across Malia’s face, her eyes blaring up, and her hands falling from Stiles shoulders, landing limply against her sides. “Lydia is my color.”

Malia stepped back, her eyes glossing, though she did a well job of hiding it. She nodded, slowly at first, before finally looking up and meeting Stiles’ eyes. “Okay,” She said, and Stiles raised his brows in confusion, not expecting ‘okay’ at all. “It’s fine. I get it. We both knew this would come. Honestly, I thought it would happen to me first.” Malia stated, and if Stiles’ brows could have extended into his hair, they would have.

Oh Malia, ever the practical one in their relationship. “You’re not pissed?” Stiles asked, not meaning to, the words kind of just slipping out of his mouth. Malia’s eyes didn’t shine anymore, and she hadn’t even shed a single tear. Stiles hadn’t even considered how Malia would react, he had only considered how it would affect their relationship. _Idiotic Stiles._ He should have realized he knew Malia well enough to know that she wouldn’t care as much as he did.

“No, we both knew this was coming when we entered this relationship,” Malia stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. When Stiles made a look of pure disbelief, Malia let out a snort, Stiles irritated even more. “Wait- you thought this was a permanent relationship? Wow, I’m glad you found yours first.” Malia said, shaking her head and walking past Stiles towards the pier, Stiles continuing a few paces after her, still in shock. “Hurry up, we’ve got to go save your color.” Malia threw over her shoulder, and Stiles nearly growled.

They reached the edge of the pier to where Kira and Liam were already aboard the boat, Kira unknotting the ropes as Stiles and Malia both hopped onto the boat, Liam pulling Malia in when she nearly fell into the water attempting to jump in.

Kira said something about casting off to go to the pier with the boat Lydia was on, and Stiles remembered nodding, but nothing else really came to mind when thinking about that moment.

Malia hadn’t thought of their relationship as permanent, all this time. Stiles could have sealed the deal with Lydia, and Malia wouldn’t have even cared. Lydia wouldn’t have been in this situation. Stiles could’ve had his arms wrapped tightly around her beautiful figure, that enchanting smile happy for him.

But, instead, he was on a boat, hoping she wasn’t hurt beyond bringing back, hoping he had what it took to save her and not watch her drift into insanity.

“What’s on your mind?” Stiles whipped his head, realizing the question had come from Kira, who was tying different ropes off along the edge of the boat, probably helping with the sail’s wind impact or something. Stiles turned his body fully towards where she was working. He looked past her, stars beginning to speckle the deep night sky.

“Lydia and me. Together.” Stiles said, and Kira jumped off the side of the boat, approaching him quickly, rubbing her hands together, her eyes lit with a flame of excitement.

“You mean to say…” Kira drifted off, her hands pointing rapidly in opposite directions before smashing together and then blowing up again. Stiles couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle of Kira’s weird way of expressing her surprise.

“Yeah, turns out we were each other’s color,” Stiles said, sadness slithering its way into his tone. Kira sat next to where he was perched on a back bench in the boat, her legs crossing, her eyes wandering around the boat. Stiles sighed. How lucky was Lydia to have Kira her whole life? Kira was better for Lydia then Stiles’ could ever be. Of course she was, Kira was not the one who had rejected her own blasting soulmate.

“Stop.” Kira said shortly, and Stiles look to her face, his eyes landing on hers. “I know what you’re doing. But a pity party won’t save Lydia from Jackson,” Kira pointed out, and Stiles bobbed his head in agreement, swallowing his pity and self-hatred, allowing his body to digest all the emotions for now. He could barf them up later. “Good. Now pull that Soulmate bond as hard as you can, and fasten all the love and protection you feel for Lydia. You’re going to need it.” 

* * * *

Lydia was so tired. Her whole body ached from going in and out of consciousness so often in such a short amount of time. She was so tired of the emotional ride Jackson had strapped her into that she hadn’t even purchased a ticket for. She was so tired of wishing Stiles would be here when he was probably with Malia, kissing Malia the way she wanted Stiles to kiss herself.

Her eyes fluttered open, not fully to her own will, though. Lydia was so tired, she didn’t even feel like coming to. She just wanted to rest, to sleep, to get Jackson over with.

“Damn, you’ve taken on too much. Figures,” Came a grunted mutter above her, and as feeling returned to Lydia’s body she realized she was being literally dragged, strong arms she assumed her Jackson’s underneath her armpits, her feet scraping the ground. She could already feel her souls and heels bleeding slowly, since she never wore shoes.

“Jackson?” Lydia asked softly, her limbs finally seeming to thaw and give some control up to her brain. “Jackson, what are you doing?” Lydia’s raised her voice, attempting to pull herself out of Jackson’s arm, getting no luck considering his arms just tightened under hers, straining over her chest.

“Don’t struggle Lydia, I’ll just have to knock you out again and then you’ll feel even worse, and I really don’t think you want that,” Jackson grunted, and Lydia blinked a few more times. Her head was positioned in a way that all she could see was the stars coming out to play in the dark sky, and she could make out nothing that was directly in front of her. “Stop moving so much, you’re not making this any easier on either of us.”

“Yeah, kind of the point,” Lydia said, throwing in as much venom as she could in her tone, proud of herself when her voice didn’t quiver at all. Jacksons snarl could be heard, but, luckily, he was too focused to do anything about her defiance.

Eventually, after around five more minutes of Lydia moving as much as her sore, confused body could manage, Jackson put her down against a wall atop a bench, and she could finally see forward, though he didn’t let go.

She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to stand and run while Jackson momentarily let go of her, ending up with her body on the ground, resting on her back, not half a second later.

“Yeah, being knocked out twice kind of messes with the body’s ability to function,” Jackson said viciously, his angry face coming into view above her blurred vision, her head throbbing once more. “Now sit still and be good.” Jackson said, propping Lydia back up on the bench and securing both her arms against something behind her. She twisted her neck, her vision beginning to clarify, but couldn’t make out what her hands were tied to. _Curse her non-flexible body._

“Where the fucking hell are we?” Lydia asked, not even trying to keep her tone pleasant. Jackson didn’t hit her though, he just turned away from her and walked across the room, doing something on a different surface, his back to her. Lydia looked up and sighed, realizing her question assaults were getting her nowhere. She blinked a couple times, thinking about how dark the ceiling looked, until it hit her, along with Jackson’s last words before he knocked her out.

That dark speckle color wasn’t the ceiling, it was the sky. The air around her wasn’t wet because the building was gross, it was because she was out on the water. It wasn’t entirely her the was dizzy, because the ground under her feet was definitely moving itself. She was on a boat. She was sailing away. From her home, her island, her best friend, her job, her soulmate. And Jackson was the cause of it all.

Deep anger and deep sadness like she’d never felt before ripped at her, distracting her from the throbbing in her head that was becoming louder and much more constant. Her eyes somehow managed to focus, despite her spinning head, and her vision zeroed in on Jackson’s form, his back still to her. 

The sound of an engine from Jackson’s direction immediately solidified her thoughts. Jackson and Lydia were the only ones on this boat, and Jackson was operating it himself. As the engine grew louder, water began splashing against Lydia’s hands. Though she couldn’t twist to see just what her arms were tied to, she induced that Jackson must be across the boat, in the back, which meant that she was up front, at the bow.

“Exactly what is your plan?” Lydia asked loudly, making sure Jackson heard her over the roar of the engine. He turned walking back towards her, stopping a foot or two in front of her, his eyes livid. Lydia knew she was hitting a weak spot Jackson was obviously insecure about. _If I can’t get out of the situation, might as well make him as uncomfortable as possible,_ Lydia thought, smothering the smirk that was coming across her face.

“I don’t need a plan,” Jackson said, and Lydia almost snorted. _Had he ever watched movies like this? You always need a plan_. “I have a boat. We’ll take the boat far from here. Ipzo Facto, we’re free from this crusty island, together.”

“Jackson, you’re being extremely illogical-” Lydia said, pulling her arms forward to do some gesture of love but being stopped short by the restraints on her arms, “And not using that professor level brain. What has gotten into you?” Lydia jabbed again, Jackson’s eyes widening just a bit. “You don’t even like me.” _No one does, not even Stiles_. Lydia ignored that unwelcome thought in her head and continued to shove hatred into her glare at Jackson.

“I know you think you’ll never be happy with me, but you’ll learn,” Jackson said, his face totally contrasting his words. “I’ve had enough of this.” He declared, turning his back to her and slinking back towards the engine, his whole body taught. Lydia tilted her head, her conscious entering her thoughts. _Something happened. I just need to pull out of him what it was, exactly._

Lydia opened her mouth to do just that, when a roaring and big wave hit the boat, rocking the area that Lydia’s arms were tied to roughly, Lydia pitching forward, cringing at the pain in her arms. She was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to twist that way.

She hit the rail hard when the boat rocked in the other direction, her back lighting up in pain. Lydia looked over her shoulder, or attempted to, to see a boat, very close, just off to her right, and four figures standing on the edge rim of the boat, watching Jackson lividly, though her blurry vision didn’t help her make out exact features of the figures.

“You let her off that boat, you slimy excuse of a man!” Lydia heard, and her eyes darted towards the figure who screamed it, not trusting who exactly her brain though that was.

There was no way, Stiles had said he didn’t want her, he wasn’t for the bond. But, as the boat drifted closer, Lydia saw, even with her blurry vision from all the bumps to her head, the definite figure of Stiles, his body tense, his eyes aflame. 


End file.
